


Rougher Than The Last One

by LizaPod



Series: Make Out Kids [2]
Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Mickey really is kind of disgusting, established not-relationship, gross teenage boys having gross teenage boy sex, id-fic, it's just really immature sex that the author thinks is hilarious, look it's fucking porn, okay, safe anal sex, the state looks down on sodomy but mickey doesn't, tossed salad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaPod/pseuds/LizaPod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s got a week of sexual fucking frustration to work off because of Ian’s goddamn ROTC bullshit getting in the way of <i>fucking</i>, and Firecrotch can’t get his shit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rougher Than The Last One

**Author's Note:**

> For The Resa and Buttface.

“ _Fucking… goddammit… _harder…__ ”

“ _Slut_ ,” Ian grunts right in his ear. “Can’t… get on your knees.”

Mickey shoves backwards and drags his knees forward. The sheets on Ian’s bed are tangled with his jeans; the bottom sheet got twisted up off the corners of the mattress when he threw Ian down earlier and the thin blanket that started out pulled over them- it’s fucking _cold_ , too cold to have their asses hanging out- is half-caught around Ian’s waist and under his hands. It’s claustrophobic and moving would be easier if Ian would get the fuck off him for half a second but he’s not gonna be the one to suggest it.

“Shit, _fuck_ , fuck fuck fuck.” Ian pulls out and Mickey swears with him, biting his own arm. He’s got a week of sexual fucking frustration to work off because of Ian’s goddamn ROTC bullshit getting in the way of _fucking_ , and Firecrotch can’t get his shit together.

“Jesus Christ, just get on me,” Mickey orders and gets a slap on the ass. He’s gonna get Ian for that, after, but there’s the slick push and ache of dick in his asshole, shoving just too hard and not hard enough. Mickey drops his head and grunts into his arm when pretty, wholesome-looking jailbait Ian Gallagher grabs him by the thighs and pounds him.

“You’re such a fucking slut.” Ian’s weight across his back is hot, slick skin against his where their shirts are pushed up. Mickey sneers into his mouthful of arm and doesn’t bring up that thing where Ian fucked a married dude at fourteen. Mickey gropes for his own dick in the mess of sheets, jeans, and boxers, pulling fast and familiar and dry. He ignores Ian’s mouth on his shoulder, until teeth sink into his skin and he jerks around to tell him to fuck off. He ends up with Ian’s tongue in his mouth, kissing sloppy and bite-heavy.

“Harder, you pussy, _fuck_ ,” Mickey says, and he doesn’t care that his voice cracks like he’s still Ian’s age. Ian hits his ass again, and _goddamn_ he’s going to get Firecrotch back for this, but Ian’s pulling his hair and riding him harder. The damp skin on his back is cold where Ian _was_ but the rest of him is sweating, under clothes and blankets and Ian’s hands.

Mickey tugs at his cock. His balls are going to explode. Ian fucks like… he fucks like not a fifteen year old, not that Mickey has a ton of practice fucking kids that much younger than him. He fucks like Coach McKenna when he was coked up, hard and fast and more drive than skill. It makes him want to give Ian coke and fight him then fuck him. He grins into his arm and jerks faster.

‘Fuck, Mickey, _Jesus_ ,” Ian grunts. His fingers in Mickey’s hair tighten and clutch, making his head jerk back and his hand pause on his cock. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s probably thirty seconds from coming if Gallagher keeps riding his ass like this. The _point_ of fucking is coming and he’s never ever claimed he wasn’t a selfish fuck. Mickey beats off furiously and swears into his arm when his balls go tight, his eyes clench shut and he makes the incredibly stupid face he makes when he comes.

He’s seen photos. It’s not fucking pretty.

Mickey wipes his jizzy fingers on Ian’s sheets; Ian stops humping away at his asshole and whines like a bitch in heat.

“Did you fucking… _shit_ ,” he complains, and Mickey just laughs.

“Get off me and I’ll blow you,” he says, elbowing Ian in the ribs as best he can from the shitty awkward angle he’s at. Ian grunts, even though he knows he didn’t hit that hard, and pulls out. Mickey pulls his pants up half-assedly once Ian’s off him, and there’s a minute of awkward fumbling- condom off, shifting weights, accidental knee-to-balls, hitting heads on the wall and top bunk, fingers in mouths- and finally Ian’s shoved halfway into a corner so Mickey can be the comfortable one while he goes down. Selfish, etc., etc., whatever.

Ian’s jeans are still in the way. Mickey jabs Ian in the stomach, hard, right in the middle of his pastyass abs to get him to lift his bony ass up. Fuck if he’s going to get strangled by jeans, he’d rather choke on cock. There’s another couple seconds of awkward wrestling to get jeans and boxers and sheets and knees out of the way and then, then Mickey dives face first into Gallagher’s dick. He’s got one hand wrapped around Ian’s leg and the other busy with two fingers up his ass; there’s a hand on his head and another so fucking helpfully aiming Ian’s dick towards his mouth.

He’s not a pro at sucking cock, he’s gotta admit. It doesn’t do much for him (selfish) and if he’s had to get someone off in a way that doesn’t benefit him he leans towards fast handjobs. Ian’s just so fucking _appreciative_ when he gets head. Mickey guesses that Kash didn’t go in for cocksucking much either, so it’s all probably still new and awesome for Ian, but it still goes right to his ego to have Firecrotch going on and on about how fucking great he is. He goes fast and sloppy, ignoring the drool dribbling out the corners of his mouth and ignoring the fact that his dick is taking interest in the noises Ian is making. He works his fingers in Ian’s ass, _in-out-suck-twist-in-out-suck-swallow_ , lets Ian pull his hair.

Mickey likes the grunts and whines of _Fuck, Mickey, fuck shit oh god Mickey so good_. He likes how Ian looks, all spread out and open and easy, like the skank he really is under the all-American, apple-pie, virgin-for-Jesus bullshit look he has when he’s dressed and polished up. He wastes a few seconds imagining Ian getting his flat little ass reamed and wonders if maybe he needs to get in on that. He more than _kind of_ wants to watch Ian’s face when he’s balls deep in him, to see if he still looks as sweet when he’s full of cock. It’s not a bad idea, except Ian’d probably get some stupid ideas from it, like it was special or something, and Mickey hates stupid ideas and complications more than he likes the idea of fucking Gallagher.

Maybe he _should_ get him coked up first, fight him and get inside him while they’re both bleeding and jacked up from the violence. His dick is definitely into that.

“ _SHIT,_ ” Ian wails from his corner of the bed, and his hips push up, his cock shoving down Mickey’s throat so he gags and clenches his hand around Ian’s thigh. He twists his fingers in Ian’s ass, hard, and Ian makes the same kind of desperate, hot, needy whine. It sounds half like he’s trying to spit out Mickey’s name and half like he’s trying to swallow his own tongue. “Oh fuck _Mickey_ come on come _on_ fuck _yesssssss_ …”

Ian’s orgasm dies off in a hiss and a whimper and a burst of come in his mouth; he fucking hates that part of giving head. Mickey pulls off Ian’s dick with a mouthful of jizz, drags his fingers out of Ian’s ass. He hauls himself up towards Gallagher’s face and grabs a fistful of his tshirt, making like he’s gonna kiss him. Ian, the fucking sap, smiles this stupid post-fuck chick-flick dreamy smile like all his dreams are coming true.

Mickey spits Ian’s own jizz into his face.

“Slap my ass again and I’ll fucking drown you in your own come,” Mickey tells him, and kisses him hard enough that it’s more like competitive biting than kissing. When he finally pulls back, he can feel the slime of second-hand spit and semen on his skin. He uses Ian’s ROTC shirt to wipe it off.

“Yeah, okay,” Ian says, wheezy and slow off the mark. Mickey hits him in the gut, not hard at all. It’s dangerously close to being _affectionate_ , he realizes, but he can’t exactly take it back.


End file.
